


An Inconvenient Flame

by Ghosting



Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, Asami is head over heels but emotionally stunted, Asami just tell Aki you love him already, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, BAMF Takaba Akihito, Canon-Typical Violence, Dubious Consent, Guys this is going a lot differently than I originally planned, Jealous Asami Ryuichi, M/M, Possessive Asami Ryuichi, Protective Asami Ryuichi, Street Rat Akihito, This Is Actually A Romance, Why am I doing weird tags instead of writing?, no beta we die like (wo)men, oops power just flickered and the hurricane isn't even here yet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-01-12 15:31:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18449426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghosting/pseuds/Ghosting
Summary: Takaba Akihito is a street rat with a secret who stumbles upon something unexpected, Asami Ryuichi is the billionaire kingpin of both legal and illegal enterprises in Japan, and when a certain silvery-haired brat captures the attention of the most powerful man in the country, well, Akihito really should have kept running when he had the chance.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfiction and I have no beta, so I hope you enjoy this even with the probable grammatical errors. Please comment and let me know what you think!

Akihito stumbled around the corner and sprinted down the alleyway, leaping over discarded bottles and dodging fallen trash cans, his heart pounding in his ears as he frantically searched for a hiding place. Hearing the shouts behind him get louder, he clutched his bag closer to his chest and ducked down behind a pile of wood stacked up against the side of the building. Panting and lightheaded, he wedged his pack under some loose debris, closed his eyes in concentration and, with a quiet popping sound, a small caracal stood in his place, silvery coat and unusually vivid blue eyes gleaming in the light of the setting sun. Akihito crouched down and wiggled through a gap in the wood pile, squeezing his tiny body into the dark hollow beneath rotting beams and curling up as far from the makeshift entrance as possible.

The slap of running feet on asphalt grew louder and soon two men ran past Akihito’s refuge, crashing through the remnants of a chain link fence at the end of the alley and turning the corner. Akihito waited with bated breath until the racket they were making slowly faded into the distance before he poked his head out through the gap in the wood and peered cautiously around for any more pursuers. Seeing no sign of any people or animals in his vicinity, the little cat crept lightly out of the hole and nosed around until he could stick his head through the strap on his raggedy pack, pulling in small jerks until it came free from the trash he’d buried it under. Wiggling until the bag rested on his back, nearly dwarfing his body, Akihito trotted down the alley in the opposite direction of where the men had gone, running swiftly across the empty road and disappearing into the building directly adjacent to his former hiding place, thankful that he’d been in the area before and knew this particular warehouse was typically devoid of people. 

The tiny cat padded around a tower of precariously-stacked wooden crates, one of many such towers lining the walls of the building, and spotted a small enclosed room in the far corner complete with a large rectangular window, presumably the office of some long-gone supervisor when the warehouse was actually in use. He clumsily scampered across the cavernous space and into the room, wiggling out from under his bag and shifting back into human form with a long, lazy stretch, arms raised above his head and back arching until it cracked in a satisfying way. 

Grateful, as always, that his clothing shifted with him when he had to make a quick getaway, Akihito brushed his hands down his raggedy blue t-shirt and black joggers in a vain attempt to smooth out some of the wrinkles. Giving it up as a bad job, he crouched down and unzipped his pack, pulling out a dented can of takoyaki, a half-full bottle of water, a crumpled packet of crisps, and a box of broken strawberry pocky, the last of his measly food reserves. Setting the food aside for now, though his stomach grumbled with hunger, the silvery blond boy pulled out a battered camera and ejected the memory card, holding it up to the light pensively. In his grasp was the means to take down the entire Enomoto group of Tokyo, and he had acquired it – and his two pursuers – by complete accident. Shaking his head at his own bad luck, Aki plopped down onto the hard stone floor and yanked off one of his ratty sneakers, tucking the small disk into his sock and pulling the sneaker back on, tying it up securely in case he needed to make another quick escape. 

Going up on his knees to peer through the glass window into the rest of the warehouse, Aki listened intently for any approaching footsteps or voices, on edge that the Enomoto goons would double-back and search the area for him. Finally, assured that he was safe for the moment, Aki sat down with his back to the wall, thankful for once that he was short enough that his head wouldn’t be visible through the window if anyone did come in. The boy cracked open the takoyaki and shoveled some into his mouth using the lid as a makeshift spoon, hunger making his hands shake as the rush of adrenaline slowly faded from his system. 

Kou and Takato would say it was his own curse following him around, that he could get into so much trouble just for trying to take photos of the sunset over the ocean and instead capturing an illegal drug deal between the head of a prominent Yakuza family and Diet member Harada. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to do with the pictures, if anything, but he also knew that he could no longer stay in the area. Ever since he’d escaped from his horrible foster family a few years ago, he’d been sleeping in parks, abandoned buildings, or staying over with Kou or Takato, but he was loathe to impose on his old grade school friends too often, especially now that they were both attending the local college. Aki finished the takoyaki and took a few sips of water, then treated himself to one of his precious pocky sticks before bundling everything back up and shoving it all back into his pack. He was dying for a shower and a nap, not necessarily in that order, but he knew he was already taking too many risks just by remaining in the area for this short amount of time.  
Abruptly straightening, Aki listened intently, unsure if he had imagined the slight noise of a shoe scuffling over concrete but alert all the same, his muscles quivering as his adrenaline ramped up. He heard no other sounds for several long seconds, his heart in his throat and his pulse pounding in his ears, until suddenly, violently, all hell broke loose.

**********************************

Asami Ryuichi looked up from the accounting reports of his newest club, Club Entity, when there was a brisk knock on his door. 

“Enter,” he said, shuffling the papers back into their folder. He knew this must be rather important, as he’d instructed Kirishima not to disturb him unless absolutely necessary. Kirishima Kei opened the door and entered the sleek, expansive office, bowing politely to his boss before closing the door gently behind him.

“I apologize for the intrusion, Asami-sama, but there has been a development at one of the warehouses that I believe you should see,” the bespectacled man approached Asami’s desk with a laptop in his hands and settled it down in front of Asami with a soft thud. The screen was open to the security camera footage for Warehouse Three down at the docks, a scarcely-used location as it was too often patrolled by the police to be completely secure. There were eight different cameras at this particular warehouse, but Kirishima had the footage from camera five queued up and ready to play.

Asami hit play and watched the screen intently, curious despite himself to see what Kirishima thought was so important. The warehouse was empty and still for several seconds until the slightest movement at the far corner of the building caught his attention. He watched as a small form slowly crept into view, dragging what appeared to be a cloth bag of some sort and somewhat clumsily moving across the floor. 

“You brought me footage of a cute cat dragging a bag, Kirishima?” Asami was not amused, to say the least. Kirishima cleared his throat and pushed his glasses up his nose.

“Please continue watching the footage, Asami-sama,” the man replied, and Asami turned his attention back to the laptop just in time to see the cat disappear into the old foreman’s office. Suddenly, a boy stood up inside the office and stretched out his lean body, arms high over his head and his belly showing as his shirt rode up slightly. Asami eyed the fuzzy form on the screen as he took a sip of whiskey from his crystal-cut glass, appreciating the look of his lithe muscles and somewhat disappointed that the footage was only in black and white. 

“As much as I enjoy the eye candy, Kirishima, I hope you brought this to me for another reason than a squatter and his pet cat,” Asami looked at his secretary, secretly amused at his constipated expression. The man in question adjusted his glasses again and clicked on the icon for the camera positioned in the foreman’s office, expanding the screen and pressing play. From a different angle, the two men watched the small cat, which now appeared to be an exotic kind rather than a mere stray, drag the bag into the room and then, unbelievably, shift into the youth from the other footage. Asami set his glass down on the desk with a thud, whiskey splashing up against the rim, and replayed the footage once, twice more, before looking at Kirishima with burning golden eyes. 

“This footage is not doctored in any way? This is a direct live stream from the warehouse?” Asami’s voice was deep and commanding, his aura growing dark and dangerous in the air around him.

“Yes, Asami-sama, this footage is from roughly seven minutes ago and there is no evidence that it has been falsified in any way,” Kirishima replied briskly, unsurprised at his boss’s intensity. 

“Retrieve him, Kirishima. Do whatever it takes, but warn the men that he is not to be harmed. Take Suoh with you.” Kirishima bowed and assured his boss that it would be done immediately. He made it to the door before his boss spoke again, his voice raising the tiny hairs on the back of Kirishima’s neck.

“Do not fail me in this, Kei.”


	2. Chapter Two

Aki ducked behind another precarious stack of crates and went down on one knee, wincing and grabbing at his side where blood was steadily staining his ripped shirt. He had no idea how the goons from before had managed to sneak up on him, but he was pinned down enough that he couldn't risk shifting without getting instantly caught or killed. Coupled with the bullet wound in his side, Aki wasn't exactly feeling optimistic about his chances this time. The youth braced his back against some crates and levered himself up, his head spinning slightly from blood loss and adrenaline. He waited with bated breath, ears straining for any sound of his attackers, his hands trembling on the splintered edges of the crate behind him. 

“Come on out, kid, we know where you are. Just give us the camera and we'll give you a quick death,” one of the goons growled out, audibly fed up with this twisted game of cat and mouse. The voices came closer to Aki's hiding spot, arguing about which one got to do the honors of putting a bullet in his skull. Aki took a deep breath and tightened his grip on the crate, ignoring the splinters that stabbed into the tender skin of his palms. 

“I-If I come out and give you the camera, will you let me go?” The boy's voice was threaded with fear, making the two henchmen smirk at each other with savage amusement.

“You know what, kid, my friend here thinks you're pretty cute. How's about you come outta there and treat him real good, and in return he'll treat you real good, that sounds fair, doesn't it?” The men exchanged cruel grins and crept steadily closer to the stack of crates their prey was hiding behind, fully expecting the boy to realize the futility of his struggle and surrender to them. Aki scowled and straightened his back, his muscles bunching in preparation. 

“Unfortunately, ill-bred, rotten-toothed goon squad rejects aren't really my type. Suck on this!” Aki abruptly threw himself at the tower of crates, cutting off his own scream of pain at the impact to his bullet wound but nevertheless feeling grimly satisfied when a dozen heavy wooden crates came crashing down on the unsuspecting henchmen, smashing into their unprotected heads and sending them sprawling across the concrete floor, either unconscious or dead. Frankly, Aki didn't have time to care about whether he'd just straight up murdered two yakuza, he was much more concerned with stemming the flow of blood from his wound and finding a new place to hunker down and heal. If he could just get to a safe space and shift, his bullet wound would heal ten times faster than what his human body was capable of.

Groaning, Aki bent down and grabbed the discarded pack at his feet, hauling it over his right shoulder and holding it securely with one bloody, trembling hand. The boy skirted around the two bodies and the pile of shattered wooden planks, his left hand pressed firmly against his wound, and limped slowly over to the warehouse door, vision wavering like he was moving underwater. Suddenly, breaking the eerie silence that had descended in the wake of the thunderous crash he'd caused, the squealing of tires and the shouting of multiple men accompanied the sound of the warehouse door getting kicked open by the largest, blondest man he had ever seen.

“What in the actual fuck,” Aki said blankly, brain too overtaxed to comprehend the massive blond behemoth thrusting an equally massive gun at his face. With that final utterance, the last of his energy reserves dissipated and his vision went dark, too far gone to unconsciousness to feel the blond giant’s uncharacteristically clumsy lunge to catch his body, nor did he register the controlled panic amongst the suited men as the patch of blood staining his blue shirt began spreading at a rapid pace. 

*************************************

Asami stared at the still figure on the spare bed in his penthouse as he idly swirled his glass of whiskey, burning golden gaze taking in the tousled silver hair and smooth, sun-kissed skin amongst the mass of bandages, wires, and bags of fluid all working to keep his new guest alive. A soft knock on the open door had him turning his head slightly to see Kirishima with a clipboard in one hand, a pinched look on his face. 

“Pardon the interruption, Asami-sama, but I have the newest report from Kaidou-sensei.” Kirishima approached his boss cautiously and handed him the report, gaze falling on the injured young man laying as still as death in the opulent penthouse suite. The secretary couldn't help but wonder if the youth would ever wake up, it had been over three days since Kaidou-sensei managed to stabilize him and yet he hadn't moved an inch. Asami flipped through the report with intent eyes, skimming over the medical jargon before handing the clipboard back to his secretary. The report stated that the boy should wake up any day now, as there didn’t appear to be any cognitive damage and the likely causes of his continued unconsciousness were malnutrition and fatigue. 

Asami downed the remaining whiskey in his glass and handed it to Kirishima before prowling over to the unconscious shifter, grasping the pointed chin between thumb and forefinger and tilting that beautiful, fascinating face back and forth, drinking in the elegant cheekbones, flawless skin, and delicate eyebrows arching over large, exotically-shaped eyes with long, dark lashes. His scorching gaze fell past the graceful slope of his nose and fastened on the rosy mouth slightly parted in sleep, the urge to taste those lips nearly too much for him to resist. As if sensing his somewhat less-than-pure thoughts, those dark lashes fluttered briefly before heavy lids squinted open for the first time in days before slamming closed with a barely-audible groan, a grimace crossing youthful features at the bright light overhead. Asami tightened his fingers around the point of his guest’s chin and was rewarded with electric blue eyes cracking open again, focusing fuzzily in the general vicinity of his face. Asami smirked darkly and leaned down, face mere inches from the incredible blue eyes that suddenly widened with a mixture of shock, recognition, and lingering confusion.

“So you do recognize me. I’ll admit, I didn’t expect to see you under such circumstances, but it looks like you’ve fallen for me once again. Isn’t that right, my cute little stray?” Golden eyes watched his prey intently, full of possessive fire and dark lust as he grasped the shifter’s jaw in a firm hold and claimed his mouth with barely-restrained violence, plundering that hot little cavern as the boy struggled weakly and let out muffled sounds of protest. Asami pulled back only when he was sure the boy was on the verge of passing out from lack of oxygen, wicked satisfaction lingering on his face as he took in the thoroughly-ravished look of the younger man.

“I look forward to reminding you why you shouldn’t have run from me a year ago, little one. You should have known better than to think you could escape my notice forever.” Asami grabbed a handful of silken silver hair and held the boy’s head still, drinking in the emotions that danced clearly across his face and glowed in his singularly blue eyes. Predicting an impending temper tantrum as the youth’s face turned red and his eyes narrowed in rage and fear, Asami clamped his palm over those plump, swollen lips and reached for the IV of sedatives with his other hand, increasing the dosage of morphine until the silver-haired shifter’s eyes grew unfocused and his body relaxed back into the Egyptian cotton sheets, hands falling limp from where they had fisted weakly into the front of Asami’s suit jacket. The Yakuza boss straightened up and turned to the doorway where his secretary was discreetly hovering, gesturing for the man to enter the room.

“Post two guards on this door and let no one enter save the doctor and myself. This shifter is particularly slippery, so warn the men about his alternate shape. I do not want a repeat of what happened a year ago, now that I know who we’re dealing with.”

“It will be done, Asami-sama. I apologize for failing to recognize the boy from that incident a year ago.” Asami waved away his apology, turning back to stare at his unexpected guest pensively.

“It’s fine, Kirishima. I didn’t recognize him from the security footage at first either.” Asami finally turned and headed back to his personal office, mentally picturing the shifter’s reaction to his newfound captivity. He couldn’t completely bite back his smirk – it was sure to be amusing and he had been feeling far too bored of late. He just knew his little stray was going to be a handful, and he was looking forward to putting a collar around that graceful, unbending neck.


	3. Chapter Three

Akihito blinked awake, bright blue eyes foggy for a few seconds before adrenaline abruptly kicked in, his heartbeat ratcheting up as he took in the dark, unfamiliar room around him. Taking a moment to breathe deeply and allow his spinning head to slow down, the youth took stock of the pain that radiated through his body and centered in one spot on his abdomen. His most recent memories were a jumbled mess of violence, fatigue, and pain, but he distinctly remembered the golden eyes staring down at him with a covetous gleam, familiar eyes that he hadn’t seen in over a year, yet had never quite been able to drive from his mind. Asami Ryuichi was a difficult man to forget, after all, especially considering the fact that he had saved the man’s life and, not so coincidentally, revealed a secret he had kept hidden for over a decade.

 

Aki took a deep breath and braced himself on shaky arms, slowly pushing up into a sitting position with a silent groan of pain, the sensation of stretched stitches making him feel nauseous. He doubled over slightly and took another moment to let his body adjust to the new position, blue eyes focusing on the IV taped to his hand and the heartbeat monitor on his finger. It was going to be tricky escaping from Asami again, especially now that the man knew his other form. Aki had no doubt that the crime lord had alerted his security force to be on the lookout for an escape attempt in either human or cat form, so he definitely couldn’t count on the element of surprise this time. _Still_ , Aki mused, absently removing the IV from his hand and yanking off the heartbeat monitor, _I’ll have a better chance of both healing fast and escaping if I’m in my caracal form, so I might as well give it a shot!_

 

The youth carefully scooted over to the side of the bed, moving slowly to avoid disturbing his stitched up wound any more than necessary, and gently placed his bare feet on the plush carpet. He took another moment to breathe deeply before he levered himself to his feet with a groan of pain, swaying like a tree in the wind as his shaky legs threatened to collapse underneath him. The blond gripped the edge of the side table tightly as his head spun, vision flickering as his body adjusted to the new position and slowly stabilized. After what felt like an eternity, each breath ticking like a countdown to destruction, Aki felt steady enough on his feet to shift forms. Nose unconsciously scrunching in concentration, the shifter changed into his caracal form with a slight popping noise, the room suddenly feeling so much larger as the bed loomed over him and the shadows beneath it beckoned, promising a sense of security that was as false as a mirage in the desert.

 

The small silver-furred cat took a few small steps, the pain sharp but manageable and his range of movement adequate, then scampered silently over to the door, whiskers bristling as the sound of multiple men standing directly on the other side reached his tufted ears. Aki backed away from the door, luminous blue eyes searching the darkness of the room for another exit. His eyes alighted on the air vent nestled in the corner of the room above the baseboard, nearly obscured by one of the heavy grey curtains hanging over what must be one extremely large window. With a mischievous spark in his bright eyes, the boy trotted over to the vent and inspected the screws holding the grill in place, a plan forming in his clever little mind. It was going to be tricky and exhausting, but the shifter knew it was his only chance to get out before Asami made good on his promise from a year ago, a promise that inspired both dread and some unnamed feeling that left him flushed and aching.

 

**************************************

 

Kirishima knocked hastily on his boss’s door before opening it without invitation, his normally composed face slightly paler than usual.

 

“I apologize for the intrusion, sir, but your guest appears to have disa-” the secretary began speaking before he even made it all the way through the door, but the words died in his throat as his boss came into view, the formidable crime lord crouching down in the corner of the massive office, one muscular arm shoved into the air vent all the way up to the shoulder. From the vent opening came the sounds of a struggle, a distinctly feline voice hissing and growling as Asami pulled the caracal unwillingly from the passageway, holding him securely by the nape of the neck. Heedless of the sharp claws digging into his arm through the thick fabric of his suit jacket, Asami lifted his prisoner up to eye level and tsked, golden eyes alight with amusement.

 

“Come now, little one, did you really think I wouldn’t have a camera on you in that room? I’ve been watching since before you woke up. It was a clever idea, but the air vent to your room only connects directly with my office. Didn’t I tell you there would be no escape this time?” Akihito hissed at him, fangs flashing threateningly and claws rending long strips from his very expensive jacket, though thankfully failing to reach skin. Asami frowned and shook the cat gently, hand moving too fast for the shifter to react as the crime lord grabbed him around the throat with his free hand, not constricting his airway but holding him still with an uncompromising grip, nonetheless.

 

“Calm down or I’ll put a collar on you and keep you in a cat carrier until you can behave. I won’t have you tearing open your wound again.” At his words, the cat in his grasp visibly drooped, ears pinned back against his head and his claws releasing Asami’s shredded jacket, little paws falling limp as shining blue eyes stared up at him in angry defeat. Asami waited another few moments before releasing his grip around the shifter’s throat, absently registering Kirishima leaving his office as he maintained his staring contest with the troublesome imp hanging from his grasp. When the cat showed no more signs of attacking, Asami tucked the small form into the crook of his arm and moved over to his office chair, settling down and lifting the silvery-furred kitten onto his desk, keeping his hand locked in the soft fur so the minx couldn’t run away (again).

 

“Now, are you prepared to act like a reasonable human being and change back, or are you going to continue to be an unmanageable brat until I have to punish you?” Asami used his free hand to stroke through the velvety fur on the caracal’s back, satisfaction sparking in his eyes as the cat involuntarily arched at the touch, a sound that could almost be called a purr getting bit off before it truly escaped the tiny throat. Huge blue eyes glared at him, whiskers twitching, before suddenly, and without warning, the cat was no longer a cat but was instead the incredibly delectable shifter he’d been searching for over a year for. Asami tightened his grip on the boy’s neck and drew him close, eyes burning into the magnificent blue depths of his prey. The blond glared back, shifting his position on the desk so his stitches no longer pulled quite as much, though the pain was much lessened due to the time spent in his caracal form, short as it was.

 

“Why are you bothering me again?! I told you last time, we’re even! I didn’t even mean to save your life, it just happened and you don’t owe me anything!” Akihito’s chest was heaving after his outburst, his vision going slightly spotty from so much exertion after a major injury. Asami smirked back at his captive, hand traveling up from his neck to bury itself in the fine silvery hair, letting strands fall through his fingers like silk.

 

“I told you before, brat, I always honor my debts. You should have remained with me rather than run off like you did, now I’ll just have to keep you close until I feel the debt has been paid. I promised you I would grant you every pleasure you could possibly imagine, and quite a few that you would never think to want,” Asami raised his other hand and pressed it against the youth’s chest, pushing him down onto the surface of the desk with little difficulty, the blond obviously weak from exhaustion and injury. He loomed over that lithe form, golden eyes scorching as they roamed over the picture the boy made, flushed and disheveled and glaring up at him heatedly.

 

“But first, my little kitten, you will tell me your name, your _real_ name, and why you were being hunted down in my warehouse by a couple of insignificant thugs.”


	4. Chapter Four

Akihito frowned up at the striking, intimidating man leaning over him, uncomfortably aware of just how thin a barrier his current attire – a flimsy hospital yukata – was between him and the Yakuza boss. He couldn’t deny the little thrill he still got as the full weight of Asami’s attention settled on him, even after an entire year of no contact. Rebellious blue eyes burned up at his captor, meeting that intense golden gaze and engaging in a staring contest for a few tense moments, before a stab of pain in his abdomen distracted him from the silent battle of wills. He bit back a wince, palm covering his bandaged side and acknowledging – even if only to himself – that he needed a bit more healing before he could truly challenge a man like Asami. _Not that there are any men like Asami_ , Aki thought ruefully. _He’s definitely one of a kind_.

 

“Fine, fine, I’ll tell you if you let me up, geez. This isn’t very comfortable, ya know,” Akihito puffed up his cheeks, scowling and averting his gaze to the side as Asami slowly slid an arm beneath him and pulled him upright again, large palm a burning brand against the bare skin of his back where the yukata had fallen open slightly. The billionaire waited until Aki had his balance again, perched precariously on the side of the massive mahogany desk, before he reluctantly pulled back and sat down in his ridiculously expensive desk chair, steepling his fingers in front of his face as he studied his most enduring obsession. Aki took a breath before shifting into a more comfortable position, bringing his legs up and crossing them as he leaned back on his palms, wincing only slightly as his stitches pulled briefly as he settled into the new position.

 

“Not that it’s any of your business, you bastard, but I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Knowing you, you’ve already gone through all my stuff – and speaking of, I want everything returned to me before I leave, got it? Especially my camera. And my pocky!” Aki glowered at the suddenly smirking brunet as the older man pulled the memory card that was the source of his recent problems from his jacket pocket, holding it up between two long fingers. The brunet hummed thoughtfully, spinning the small chip in his fingers while his eyes remained trained on the beautiful blond.

 

“Yes, I took the liberty of going through your … belongings … before I had them burned. Very interesting pictures on here, I thought you quit the photojournalism hobby? Should I be worried you’re going to come after me again, Kitten?” Asami leered at his blond, enjoying the sight of the boy growing red in the face, beautiful eyes practically glowing with fury as he scowled fiercely. _How cute_.

 

“You bastard!” Aki launched himself off the desk and grabbed Asami by the tie, absently noting the colorful butterflies on the fabric as he used it to pull the billionaire close. He ignored the large hands that came up to grip his hips, focused on the amused, heated gaze boring into him.

 

“Those were mine! You had no right to burn my things! That was all I had! And my name is Akihito, don’t call me Kitten!” Aki’s voice shook on the last word, suddenly feeling overwhelmed and exhausted from the whirlwind that was his life recently. His strength abruptly failing him, the boy sagged against Asami, forehead landing somewhere in the vicinity of one very firm chest as the Yakuza boss pulled him close, settling him into his lap as if that had been his goal from the beginning. Aki listened to the strong heartbeat under his ear, his head spinning slightly and his side twinging with pain, exhaustion threading through his limbs. All at once, he felt like everything was just too much for him to deal with, his normally fiery personality subsiding into something drained and listless.

 

“I don’t even want the memory card, I don’t care what you do with it. I was just taking pictures of the sunset. Those bakas were just dumb to do their dirty deals out in public like that.” Aki sighed, blinking slowly as whatever remaining adrenaline keeping him going finally dissipated, his limbs feeling like lead weights. Asami brought one large hand up to card through his hair, enjoying the boy’s slight weight on his lap along with his uncharacteristic submission, though in truth the Yakuza preferred it when Akihito was glaring at him with fire and passion, blue eyes alight with that unfailing spirit. The shifter growled faintly and tossed his head, a vain attempt to dislodge the too-pleasant petting, his spine liquifying from the sensations rippling through his nerves and a faint purr rumbling in his throat. Asami’s eyes softened slightly, though Akihito didn’t notice the change in demeanor as he fought a losing battle against sleep.

 

“I’ll give you everything you need from now on, my _Akihito_. You won’t need those rags again.” Aki scowled faintly, a faint shiver running through his body at the sound of his name on the Yakuza’s lips, but he was already drifting off against his will before he could offer even a token protest, exhaustion and pain pulling him down into a deep healing sleep. Asami sat with the boy curled up in his lap for some time after he finally fell asleep, long fingers carding continuously through the soft blond hair as he contemplated his next move. Perhaps he had been too hasty with his captive, he needed the boy to heal completely before he could truly be played with. Asami was a harsh man but he wasn’t unnecessarily cruel, and he was determined to make his Akihito yearn for his touch before they were through – if he ever decided they _were_ through.

 

The Yakuza boss gathered the slumbering shifter up in his arms and deposited him on the soft leather couch against the far wall of his office, where he could keep an eye on the mischievous minx and prevent any more escape attempts. Asami studied his boy for a long moment, almost indecisive, then reached into the pocket of his slacks and pulled out a thin platinum bracelet, fitting it securely to Akihito’s slender wrist and engaging the automatic locking mechanism. He ran his fingers around the circumference of the expensive cuff, ensuring Aki wouldn’t be able to slide it off, then trailed his fingertips over the smooth, flawless skin, up over the loosely belted yukata to the graceful neck, up even further to skim over pink lips and pale cheeks, somehow unable to drag himself away from the vision that his Kitten made, vulnerable and in his grasp at last. Recalling the spitfire that his Kitten turned into when awake, and remembering with a flash of lust the way the shifter had gotten the better of him a year ago and proved himself to be unexpectedly dangerous and resourceful, Asami couldn’t resist crouching down and kissing those plush lips with uncharacteristic gentleness, thumb brushing over the boy’s silken cheek before he reined himself in and turned away to bury himself in work once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience! My final semester before graduation has started, so between that, working full time, and being in and out of the hospital for medical issues, my free time has suddenly become quite a rare commodity. As always, your comments are fuel to the fire and keep me writing.
> 
> This is another slow-ish chapter but we're getting to the good bits so thanks for sticking with me! Please comment if able, it really does drive me to keep going :).


	5. Chapter Five

(Flashback - One Year Ago)

 

Aki crouched in the shadows on the catwalk high above the floor of the rundown, condemned club building, camera posed to capture images of his current target. His contact at the local police station, Yamazaki, had given him a tip off that Shiryo Mizu, son of the local up-and-coming Yakuza boss, was due to meet some mysterious figure and, supposedly, organize a massive trade deal of some sort. Aki wasn’t really particular about the details, truthfully he had better things to do with his time, but Yamazaki paid well and as a homeless seventeen year old working odd jobs to survive, money was the only thing that mattered to him at present. 

 

Aki’s ears pricked up as he heard a door slam open and loud voices echo through the cavernous hall, a squat young man in his early twenties sashaying into the room like he owned the place, thick lips pulled up in a snaggle-toothed grin as he waved away the group of guards that ran in after him, protesting his entrance before they could secure the scene. Eventually, a large man with a red scarf tied around his throat came trailing in after the others, dragging a large cart covered in a tarp behind him, presumably loaded with drugs or some other illegal merchandise.

 

“Oh come off it, you know we practically own this city now! My Otousan has this Asami fellow begging for every scrap, he’s not nearly as scary as everyone makes him out to be! Why, just the other day I heard he was hard up for money and needs this deal more than we do, we have him by the balls, fufufufufu! Ultimate crime lord my ass!” The unpleasant man took out a cigar and lit it, taking a puff while his large belly jiggled beneath the mustard yellow silk shirt as he moved further into the room, tacky gold chain glinting beneath the dim lights. The eight guards with the man exchanged uneasy glances and spread out around the room, checking every corner while their master waited in the center with an air of either bravery or foolishness … Aki knew which one he’d assign. Just the mannerisms of the guards had him perking up, feeling the rising tension in the air. Whoever this mysterious Asami person was, he definitely invoked polarizing feelings in prominent figures in the underworld. 

 

Aki glanced around cautiously, making sure no one was looking up in his direction, and took a few sneaky shots of his target as the man grew impatient and took a hit of cocaine, hiding his discreet metal dispenser back in his suit jacket and rubbing at his nose with jerky movements. The pictures might be good enough to get him a few days in jail for drug use, but Aki really needed the big score with the men actually doing business together. Drug or weapons smuggling was the key to long incarceration in prison, and what Yamazaki would pay him the most for. 

 

The quiet click of the door opening had Aki lowering his camera and looking in the direction of the main entrance, and then nearly dropping his camera once he got a good look at the man coming in. Hot DAMN, that man was everything a leader in the underworld should be. Tall, dark, and smoldering, with unusual golden eyes, a body that was literally the definition of perfection, and an insanely handsome face. The man, Asami, exuded such an air of danger and intrigue that Aki nearly fell over the railing as he leaned forward unconsciously to get a better view. He didn’t really swing that way, actually he’d never given any thought to a relationship at all, plus this man was much older than him, but DAMN you’d have to be dead not to notice his lethal sex appeal. Aki blushed at his own thoughts, shaking his head minutely and focusing again on the scene below, only now registering the handful of men that had accompanied Asami to the meetup. 

 

A massive blond giant stood at Asami’s back and to his right was a bespectacled man holding a briefcase. Behind them stood two more men, presumably guards, but they were blatantly outnumbered and would definitely be in trouble if negotiations went south. Still, Aki had the feeling Asami could and would demolish the sleezy drug dealer if it came to that. Something about the man just screamed his absolute control and domination of any situation at hand, including the current deal. Still, Shiryo Mizu didn’t seem to have any idea just what kind of man he was dealing with.

 

“Ah, Asami, is it? I was beginning to think you would chicken out of our deal, after all we’ve been here for ages! Did you bring the cash?”

 

Asami smirked slightly, the barest quirk of his shapely lips, and gestured gracefully for his man to bring forth the briefcase. The bespectacled man opened it and Aki quickly raised his camera, capturing pictures of the stacks of yen bills laid out neatly in the case. He estimated as much as forty million yen, based on the bills he could see. Shiryo’s eyes gleamed greedily as he looked at the cash, already planning to pocket some and claim Asami had short-changed them. He felt small and insignificant beneath the hard golden gaze of the other crime lord, and so he ran his mouth in an effort to regain the upper hand (not realizing he had never once had the upper hand). 

 

“And you have the goods, I presume?” Asami interrupted the other man’s inane blathering and oh man, even the crime lord’s voice was sin, a rich and velvety baritone, somehow intimate and intimidating all at once. Aki shifted his camera to one hand and lifted the other to his face, feeling how hot his cheeks had become. He had never reacted like this to someone before, and this someone was a Yakuza boss! He shook his head again, silver blond hair flopping against his forehead, and repositioned his camera to zoom in on the covered cart the large scarf-wearing man was bringing forward now under orders from Shiryo Mizu. Shiryo’s guards discreetly moved forward, hands tightening on their holstered weapons, and Aki abruptly noticed the tension rising to the breaking point, the small hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. Something wasn’t right here, and it wasn’t just this drug deal. He cast his eyes around, looking more intently at the dark patches in the gloomy club interior. He scanned the catwalk on the other side of the room from him, glanced back down at the scene where Asami’s huge blond henchman was inspecting the uncovered blocks of cocaine laid out on the cart, then abruptly refocused on a particularly dark area of space in the far corner from him, his pupils flickering slightly before enlarging as he allowed himself to shift just enough to increase his night vision. There! A figure was crouched down much like Aki was, however instead of holding a camera, they were holding a sniper rifle, and it was aimed directly at Asami. Without a thought given to what could happen to him, nor an inkling as to why he absolutely COULD NOT let Asami get assassinated like this, Aki launched himself to his feet and grabbed the rusty handrail, his eyes still shining like his caracal form’s as he came into the light.

 

“Asami, get down!! Sniper!!” Total chaos ensued down below, as the blond behemoth covered his boss and rushed him behind the dust-covered bar, the bespectacled man covering their backs. The assassin cursed loudly and took his shots but they were futile, he hadn’t been prepared for an interruption and thus was caught off guard when it came in the form of a scrawny blond brat. Shiryo Mizu was already gone, his second target for the evening, and Asami was now out of reach. The guards were shooting at him, coming far too close for comfort, but he could at least get some retribution for his job going south. The sniper aimed at the brat that had ruined his contract and shot rapidly, missing the boy as he dodged and flipped and somehow managed to evade the bullets, though they did their job in the end as a particularly erratic shot pinged off the handrail and hit a main support, causing the whole catwalk to fall halfway to the floor before getting caught by the other supports. 

 

Poor Akihito, however, unprepared for the catwalk’s collapse and rapid swinging motions, lost both his grip and his balance and tipped right over the handrail, brilliant blue eyes opening impossibly wide as he fell three stories onto the hard concrete floor. His body landed with a loud bang, limbs splayed out like a broken doll and eyes staring unseeingly at the ceiling. A slow stream of blood leaked from his parted lips and another, larger puddle began growing beneath his silvery blond hair. The assassin smirked darkly at his one successful kill of the day and booked it, not wanting to stick around and be found out by Asami’s men. 

 

Asami waited another few moments before emerging from cover, his gun in hand as he and his men surveyed the area. He would be having words with his men about properly clearing a building before meeting there in the future. Heads would roll (literally). For now, Asami approached the fallen form on the other side of the room, feeling a puzzling mix of gratitude and confusion. Who was this figure that had saved his life at the apparent cost of his own? He knelt down beside the body and turned the blond head slightly, feeling for a pulse as he stared down at remarkably striking features. This boy was too young to be laying here on the floor, dying an anonymous, accidental death that would not have happened if he hadn’t tried to save Asami’s life. Asami wasn’t generally prone to feeling or displaying deep wells of emotion, but even he couldn’t help but regret this senseless casualty. Luminous blue eyes fluttered open at the same time his searching fingers found a pulse, and his breath involuntarily caught in his throat at the sheer breathtaking hue of them. 

 

“You’re alive,” the boy said, a dribble of blood bubbling up at the corner of his mouth. Asami glanced up at Kirishima and the man nodded slightly, indicating an ambulance had been called and was enroute to their location.

 

“I am, thanks to you. You should know I will repay you for it. I will ensure you want for nothing for the rest of your life. What’s your name?” Asami ran his fingers through the silky silver hair, taking care to avoid the wound at the back of his head. 

 

“Just call me Hito,” the beautiful boy said, lips quirking slightly, and Asami resolved to keep him for a good long while. There was something wild and free about this boy, something he wanted to learn more about. They sat for a while, hearing sirens slowly growing louder in the distance. His henchmen were collecting the drugs that had been abandoned by Shiryo Mizu; he’d be sure to pay the repulsive man later, provided he had no part in the attempted assassination. The boy’s eyes grew unfocused and his blinks became longer, obviously succumbing to unconsciousness. Asami gently shook the boy in an attempt to keep him awake, and the blond suddenly threw his body forward, out of Asami’s grasp and onto his front on the cold concrete ground. 

 

“Careful, Hito, I don’t want you any more damaged before I get a chance to play with you,” Asami said lowly, reaching out for his newest object of interest. The boy glanced over his shoulder at him, electric eyes wild and panicked, clearly disoriented by the headwound, and lurched to his feet, swaying as his eyes flickered rapidly around the empty hall. The blond shook his head, then groaned and touched the back of his head, vision going black for a brief moment as he brought his hand back around and saw it covered in blood. Aki wasn’t thinking clearly, his thoughts were all muddled and every movement and inhalation made his body scream in pain. 

 

Not even registering the other men in the warehouse, just Asami and the blond giant and the bespectacled man now, Aki knelt down and shifted, the only thought in his head to get into his caracal form so he could heal and get away from where he nearly died. The small cat stayed motionless for a brief moment as the other men stared in blatant amazement and disbelief, then abruptly burst into a sprint towards the door to the outside, dodging past Asami’s expensive shoes and evading grabbing hands with ease, even as injured as he was. He pushed through the one door left slightly ajar and was gone into the night in an instant, leaving the crime lord and his two most trusted men uncharacteristically gaping and staring dumbstruck at the swinging door. Long moments of silence passed as the men stood there, unable to fully comprehend what they had just seen. Eventually, Asami cleared his throat, eyes still slightly wide with surprise. 

 

“Did the boy that saved my life just turn into a cat and flee like the hounds of hell were after him, or am I dreaming?” He knew even as he spoke that what he had seen was true, but even he couldn’t have suspected he’d meet an actual, mythical shapeshifter, especially one that had just saved his life. His men murmured agreement, caught off guard just like he was, and he immediately felt his interest in the boy skyrocket. Clearly he was much more than a pretty face, much more than the boy who had stopped his assassination.

 

“Find him. Deploy all resources we have, I want that boy in my penthouse before the week is through. He can’t have gone far, he’s wounded, get the men looking for both a boy and a wounded cat, but don’t tell them he’s a shifter. We don’t want that reaching the wrong ears. Go.” Asami crouched and dipped his fingers in the puddle of blood at his feet as his men followed their orders, rubbing his fingertips together as he stood and left the warehouse.

 

“I’ll find you, Hito, and when I do, I will uncover all of your secrets.”

 

(Flashback – To Be Continued…)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for your comments and kudos! I churned this out in an hour tonight cause I can't sleep, haven't really read over it so apologies for any grammatical errors. 
> 
> Please comment and let me know what you think about the chapter, the characterizations, and where you think the story will go! 
> 
> Also, I saw another author doing this, but let me know which countries/states y'all are from! I'm here in the United States, in Florida :). Hope to hear from you!!


	6. Chapter Six

(Flashback - One Year Ago - Continued)

 

Akihito's small feline form skidded around the corner, slipped on a wet magazine plastered to the ground, and went careening into the grimy wall of the alleyway. He lay there, dazed and in pain, as the blood leaking from his tiny form was slowly washed away by the rain that fell gently from the cloudy night sky. His luminous blue eyes blinked slowly, consciousness ebbing and flowing as his wounds closed, unusually slowly for his cat form as exhaustion and lack of nutrition delayed his healing abilities. The sound of thundering footsteps made him perk up a little and he rose shakily to his feet, slinking back into the shadows next to a drain pipe with his back against the slick wall. He watched as men dressed in dark suits went running past, not even thinking to look in the shadows for a tiny cat, and let out a relieved sigh when they finally rounded the corner. Aki crept out from the shadows and limped his way to the mouth of the alley, realizing he had only run a block over from the warehouse in his pain and confusion. The small caracal had only gone a few steps when he was abruptly swept off his feet, a large hand curling gently but securely around his middle. The injured cat flinched at the touch, ducking down and making himself as small as possible, dazed sapphire eyes meeting the dark brown ones of Asami's massive blond bodyguard. His normal attitude was a pale and fragile thing in the wake of his injuries and likely concussion. 

 

"It is okay, little one. Asami-sama will reward you for your actions." The bodyguard kept a firm grip on the damp, filthy fur in case the slippery little shifter attempted another escape, but the kitten only let out a weak hiss before falling silent, respiration worryingly labored to Suoh's unpracticed ears. He hurried back to the limo where his boss was waiting, parked a few blocks down in the other direction, and ducked into the backseat, folding his huge form nearly in half to fit through the door. Asami looked up from his phone with a frown, eyes widening as he saw the bedraggled cat in his guard's hands; he truly hadn't thought he would see the mysterious shifter again so soon. Suoh gently handed the little kitten over to the crime lord and backed out of the limo, closing the door firmly behind him and moving up front where Kirishima sat in the driver's seat, feeling a bit of relief when the sleek black vehicle left the curb and merged smoothly with the late night club traffic. This entire night had been something of a disaster, yet he also couldn't suppress a sense of awe when he considered that they had actually encountered (and acquired) a legendary shapeshifter. Exchanging a glance with the silent Kirishima, the two men focused on getting back to the penthouse as soon as possible. 

 

In the back of the limo, Asami cradled the caracal with surprising gentleness and brought the small form up in front of his face, a frown pulling at the skin between his brows as he carded fingers through the blood-soaked fur, feeling for open wounds and broken bones. The shifter was barely conscious, all energy tied up in healing, but still managed to hiss sharply when the golden-eyed Yakuza touched particularly sore spots. Asami found himself shushing quietly at the cat as he wrapped the trembling form in his suit jacket and held him securely in his lap. There was nothing he could do for the shifter until they arrived at his penthouse. Undoubtedly Kirishima had already called ahead for his personal doctor to be transported to Sion posthaste.

 

By the time the limo parked outside the entrance to Sion, the shifter was completely unconscious. Asami rode the elevator up to the penthouse with his subordinates in tense silence, one hand unconsciously petting the matted fur on the caracal's head. His personal doctor, Mishuri-sensei, was waiting in the hallway outside the elevator and immediately bustled over when the burnished silver doors opened, taking the bundle from Asami's hands and peering worriedly at the unconscious shifter even as he questioned Asami about the situation at hand, having only the barest details from Kirishima. Asami laid out the facts in short, terse sentences as they entered the penthouse and congregated in the front bedroom, eyes never leaving the limp form of his kitten (yes, he was certain now - Hito would be his). Mishuri-sensei's frown grew deeper and deeper as his boss's story continued, expert fingers gently and efficiently poking and prodding at the small cat that was in fact a nigh-extinct shapeshifter. The good doctor had had the privilege of meeting a shifter once at a medical conference, even treating that self-same shifter for a number of years before her death, and Mishuri-sensei was in fact considered the preeminent expert on shifter biology. It was mere coincidence that he also happened to be Asami's personal doctor, but as the number one ranked doctor in Japan, of course Asami would only have the best at his beck and call. Finally Mishuri-sensei straightened from his examination of his newest patient and turned to Asami with a sigh, one hand resting on his aching back.

 

"Well, Asami-sama, you definitely caught yourself a shifter, that's for sure! I've never seen one so small before, which is quite worrisome, but besides ample bedtime and increased nutrition and vitamins, this little one will heal just fine on his own. His open wounds have already scabbed over, however he does need to get bathed to help prevent infection. While shifters have increased immune systems compared to normal humans, he is very weak from malnutrition and what looks like chronic exhaustion. I'll go ahead and give him some shots, but then you will need to have one of your subordinates wash him very gently with some unscented antibacterial soap." Asami listened intently to his doctor's instructions, nodding along in agreement and scowling slightly at the thought of this fantastical creature being so maltreated that even his own heightened immune system might not stave off further illness.

 

"I will bathe him myself, Mishuri-sensei. Is there a way to return him to human form?" Even as he spoke, the doctor was shaking his head in the negative.

 

“Alas, he will have to turn back into his human form on his own, likely while he is at rest. Truly, it is best that he is in feline form, as shapeshifters have accelerated healing only in that form. Something about the smaller surface area and concentrated blood cell circulation ... well, I won’t bore you with the details. The young shifter will be fine after some rest and nutrition, I shouldn’t worry too much about that. I imagine the biggest issue you’ll encounter is keeping the young one in place while he heals – going by his second form, he’s a wild, clever little thing.” Mishuri-sensei bowed to his employer and made his way to the door, leaving a bag of medical odds and ends with the stalwart Kirishima – the bespectacled secretary would make sure the shifter’s wounds were bandaged after his bath. 

 

Asami gently lifted the kitten and brought him into the expansive marble guest bathroom, adjusting the faucet in the large tub to run with warm water as he laid the shapeshifter down in the sink and began to disrobe. Once completely bare, the crime lord picked the cat up again and cradled him to his chest as he stepped into the slowly filling bath, keeping a firm grip on the shifter and sitting down gracefully on the small submerged corner seat, warm water lapping at his abdomen. Asami flipped the faucet off and settled the caracal on his knee, keeping one large palm wrapped around the shifter’s belly as he used his other hand to softly scrub at the disgusting, matted fur, taking extra care to avoid the scabbed-over wounds. The Yakuza was honestly surprised at his own actions, he had never done this sort of thing for anyone in his acquaintance, nor anyone he had temporarily allowed to warm his bed, yet he was acting as a nursemaid to a shapeshifter he had hardly met. Still, allowances would be made for the one whom had saved his life, particularly when said individual was a legendary being wrapped in an incredibly beautiful, alluring, intriguing package.

 

Once the silver fur was completely clean of any alleyway grime and crusted blood, shining a dull silver in the warm golden glow of the vanity lights, Asami placed the caracal back into the sink and made his way to the shower, rinsing off the strands of fur that were plastered to his skin from the bath. Barely a minute in, a loud crash and muffled groan had the crime lord rushing out of the glass cubicle, the gun he kept stashed in the nook beside the door clenched tightly in one hand. He skidded to a stop next to the tub, lowering the gun as he took in the damp, disheveled youth levering himself up from the tile floor, one hand buried in chaotic silver locks as embarrassed, luminous blue eyes looked up at him and then darted away, a red flush overtaking pale, flawless cheeks. His ratty clothing was completely soaked and torn, though clean – Asami made a mental note to ask the boy how, exactly, his clothes shifted with him – and the young shapeshifter himself looked in much better health overall, though he was far too skinny and had noticeable bruises and scabbed lacerations on what skin was visible.

 

“Well, this is awkward,” the youth chuckled nervously, tugging at his hair before letting go with a wince, fingers tentatively prodding at a particularly sore spot on the back of his skull. Akihito kept his eyes determinedly away from the naked man staring at him intently from mere feet away, the image of the man’s godlike body burned into the backs of his eyes. Goodness, he had never seen such perfection in his life, nor had he ever had such a visceral reaction to another person. In truth, Akihito had no idea what to do in this situation; it was unprecedented, not to mention this man now knew his secret – a secret he blew when he saved the man’s life and nearly lost his own in the same evening. The silvery blond wrung his hands together, uncharacteristically hesitant to break the silence, feeling some strange tension in the air that he had no experience with. 

 

Asami watched the shapeshifter with no small amount of amusement (and heat), noticing how those incredible eyes refused to look at him as he stood there in all his naked glory. The crime lord engaged the safety on his gun and set it down on the side of the tub with a clink, drinking in the split-second glance in his direction before the boy glanced away again, that adorable blush threatening to overtake his entire face. Asami approached the slender youth and got right up in his personal space, reaching around the blond with one hand and bracing his other palm against the marble sink. Hito (if, indeed, that was his name) let out a tiny gasp and leaned back as their eyes locked, brilliant cerulean ensnared by fiery gold, before Asami gave a devastatingly attractive smirk and straightened up again, a lush black towel clutched in one large hand. The Yakuza dropped the towel on the shifter’s head and turned away, heading back to the still-running shower.

 

“Take off those wet clothes, Hito, and dry yourself off…unless you’d like to join me in the shower, of course. We’ll talk after supper.” Asami let out a rumbling chuckle at the strangled yelp that sounded behind him, followed by the pattering of feet as the shifter ran from the bathroom. The little one wouldn’t get far with Kirishima and Suoh waiting in the common area, so he wasn’t concerned about his guest being a potential flight risk. Indeed, the crime lord was feeling quite smug, knowing he affected the innocent shapeshifter so much without even touching him yet. He continued his interrupted shower, smirk growing at the distant sounds of a scuffle and outraged yelling. Looks like his kitten still had his claws after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for your comments and kudos! I took a tiny break after graduating to just sleep A LOT, but now I hope to resume a semi-regular schedule of posting between this story and Shinigami's Game. I do still work full time and I do contend with health issues, so please bear with me. 
> 
> Please comment, they truly do encourage me to keep writing! Tell me what you'd like to happen, I'm always up for new ideas!!


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